


Fantasy

by annegoddamn



Series: Like a Wish Come True [11]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: AO3 exclusive, Anonymity, Anonymous Sex, Daydreaming, F/F, Femslash February, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Frustration, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annegoddamn/pseuds/annegoddamn
Summary: She didn't even know her name.





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first smut fic ever. Please go easy on me.

She couldn't take her eyes off of her.

The anonymous contestant moved across the tournament stage with such grace and fluidity. Her eyes sparkled with passion and ferocity. Her long dark hair flew behind her back, as she danced across the stage. Every move she made was swift and quick. Her muscles clenched and stretched, glistening with persperation. Her face had flushed, as she grew more and more determined to beat her opponent.

Bulma lifted a hand to her heart. She could feel it beating faster, beneath her fingers.

Then, she stopped. It was as if everyone around them had stopped moving. She adjusted her hair, flipping her ponytail back into place. She moved her wristbands back down her arms, and she smoothed out her skirt.

She looked at her.

She came towards her, walking with a steady and persistent stride. She jumped off of the stage without even looking down. Her eyes glistened with a different passion. She stopped right in front of her, their bodies only inches apart. She could feel the heat of her body waffing off of her.

For the first time in years, Bulma was speechless.

Anonymous cupped her cheek, and trailed her other hand over her bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. She slowly pressed her forehead agaist hers. Bulma's breath caught in her throat, when she felt their skin touch. All of her experience in love and romance had suddenly vanished. She became a shy lamb, in proximity to her.

They began to lean in towards each other. Bulma's eyelids drooped, as their exhales mixed. It was incredibly slow, but she was almost afraid that this moment would end, if she tried to rush.

She slowly brushed her lips against hers. Bulma's lips parted in preparation, before she pulled away. She shifted to the corner of her mouth, lightly flicking her tongue against it. She only light pushed her mouth against hers, giving her no more than that. She was only teasing her of what she didn't know that she wanted until now.

Her knees nearly gave out, when nimble fingers traced the outline of her panties.

Bulma leaned herself onto the anonymous woman, catching and holding her body weight and keeping them upright. The teasing kisses continued, as a set of fingers danced on her crotch. She whimpered and whined softly. She had never needed anything more than this in her entire life, but Anonymous was content on keeping her body on complete edge.

"Please," she breathed out. "Please, oh god, please. I'll do anything."

Fingers hesitated. Bulma was pushed away from her, slightly. She tried to pull her back, wanting to feel her warmth envelop hers, again.

Anonymous smiled sweetly. Fingers intertwined with hers. Anonymous pushed her down onto the stage platform. She had long forgotten about the crowd around her. Long forgotten her friends had been standing next to her.

As her lips came close to hers once again, the zipper on the back of her dress was pulled down. The turtleneck collar fell forwards, and her heart began to race. When the zipper reached its end, it pooled around her waist. The cool air nipped at her bare skin, and her hair stood up on its end, waiting for her next move. Her chest moved up and down with every heavy rep.

Anonymous reached behind her, pulling the ribbon that kept her hair tied together. She pushed it behind her ear, as it fell around her face. Bulma wanted to reach out and thread the ebony tassles through her fingers. They looked so soft. She peeled off her wristbands ever so slowly down her dainty little hands. Bulma writhed in her seat, with impatience and anticipation. She had never been this turned on in her life.

A pair of warm and soft hands gently grabbed her shoulders. She trailed them slowly down her back. She found her bra, and lightly traced the metal clasp. Her nipples rasped against the cotton fabric, needing to be freed.

Instead, she held the small of her back. She swiftly shifted her back onto her feet, and turned her around, holding an arm around her waist. She swayed them back and forth. Bulma's vision had blurred. She could only feel her movements and her hands.

"Will you really do anything," she whispered into her ear. She shifted her left hand to her thigh, and it slowly moved to her crotch

"I will," she breathed out.

"Then..."

She gasped, as a finger gently pressed on clitorus, frustratingly staying stationery.

"Tell me my name."

Oh god. Her mind raced. She tried to place a name to that lovely face. She couldn't find it. The name of every pretty dark haired girl that she met had been practically wiped from her mind. Her head began to hurt. She couldn't answer her.

"Who am I?" She slowly began to rub her clit, increasing the pressure with every second. Her knees shook. She didn't want to tell her that she didn't know. She was afraid that she'd stop. A soft moan escaped her lips, as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

Anonymous slowly turned her back around, letting her lay her forehead on her shoulder. Her other nimble fingers ran up and down her crotch, as her thumb played with her clit.

"We've met, before. Just tell me my name," she prodded, again.

She was still painfully aware of her query. She wished that she could just let go and enjoy the delicious feeling bubbling from her stomach. But her simple question kept her conscious. The knowledge that she knew her made it so much worse.

She groaned, as she felt her fingers slip underneath her panties. She had to take control. She tried to push their lips together, but she would not move or falter. She was still looking at her as if she was expecting an answer.

"My name. What is my name," she said, again. Her tone was more direct and serious.

Her hand stilled. She wanted to cry. She didn't have it. She was still just anonymous. She leaned her head on her collarbone, hiding her face in shame.

"No, you have it. I know you do. Say it."

The loving encouragement strengthened her drive. She had to know. She wasn't going to let her down, now. She only had to think. She reached into the back of her mind. She looked close to Goku's age. She had dark hair and dark eyes. She was a fighter, just like all of her friends. And they met, before.

Her eyes sprung open. She muttered something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"You're the princess. The one Son had to find, for the Ox King."

And she had thought Goku's growing up was dramatic.

She smiled at her. "Good enough," she answered.

Bulma moaned, as she touched her womanhood. Her head lulled to the side, feeling her mouthing and nibbling her neck. Two fingers tucked into her cunt, pressing and thrusting in and out at an even pace. Strands of hair clung to her wet cheeks and forehead. Her hips bucked against her hand, though she found it more difficult to stand. She couldn't control her moans of pleasure. She grew lightheaded, as she tried to catch her breath.

The tempo slowed down. The princess pressed her forehead against hers. She tilted her head upwards, teasing her with another kiss. Bulma gasped, as she dove her fingers in deeper. It wouldn't take much to push her over the edge. She only needed one more thing.

Bulma reached her shaky hands up towards her head. She threaded the long, soft strands of hair between her fingers. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, as she finally pulled her closer.

"And Anonymous will be moving onto quarter finals!"

The crowd erupted into applause. Bulma blinked in a daze, and looked around. She looked back up at the gymnasium. She clasped her hands together, and lowered her head, in a bow. Her wristbands were back on, and her hair was pulled back. Bulma looked down at herself. She was still wearing her clothes.

"Bulma," Puar said. "Are you okay?" He and Oolong were looking up at her, weirdly.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah. I'm okay. I think I just need to get some fresh air, for a while." She excused herself, and practically ran out of the gym, skirting around to a remote corner behind the building. Her fingers fumbled around in her pockets until she pulled out a compact mirror. She popped it open and pulled down her collar, feeling the skin on her neck and collarbone. She couldn't feel or see any bite marks. She patted herself down. She didn't feel very sweaty or heated.

Something sticky trickled down her thighs. She hesitantly ran her fingers up to her panties; they were soaked all the way through.

She fell onto her knees and covered her face. She had just had a wet dream about a stranger she only met once, as a kid: one that probably didn't remember her. Her friends had been right next to her, the whole time. Did she make a complete fool of herself, while her imagination had taken over? She was mortified.

But it felt so real. And so, so good.

She sighed, tucking her hand into her panties. She leaned her forehead against the bricks, trying to relieve herself of some tension. She bit back her moans, as she quickly climaxed. Her shoulders slumped forward, her breaths coming out in hard pants. In the back of her mind, she pressing her cheeks against her soft bossom, while her hair was being played with. Light kisses were peppering her forehead, as she was eased down from her powerful orgasm.

Slowly, she began to stand back up. She straightened out her skirt, replaced her panties, cleaned her hands off, and stumbled back into the building.

Oh crap.

The princess was talking with the other fighters. She had approached Goku and the others. Her head was bowed, and her cheeks were a light pink. She was even cuter, when she wasn't fighting.

Bulma shook her head. She just had to act natural, and pretend like none of that ever happened. They wouldn't know the difference. She sighed in relief, when she saw her walking away from them.

"Hey, there you are, Bulma," Goku yelled. "I was wondering where you went!"

"Yeah. Sorry, Son. Had to get some fresh air."

"I get to fight the girl! Did you see her, out there? She was awesome!"

Oolong snorted. "Oh yeah, she was just as excited as you are, Goku." He and Puar started giggling.

Her face immediately went red as a beet. She smacked them both, upside the head, quickly shutting them up.

Krillin leaned in to Yamcha, cupping his hand next to his mouth. "Hey, what are they talking about?" Yamcha shrugged.

"IT'S NOT IMPORTANT!" She covered her mouth for a second, realizing that she had screamed it. She crossed her arms and pouted.

Bulma peaked back over at her. Now, she was stretching, and warming up for the first match. She raised her arms up, and stood on her toes, leaning backwards. Her torso fell forward, and she slowly stood up, with her back straight.

She couldn't help but wonder if she was anything like she was, in her head.


End file.
